The third week in August George wrote to me, and told me to engage him rooms in Fylingdales Crescent on the East Cliff. You might have knocked me down with a feather! Mother was hurt at George's having written to me, not her, on such a pure matter of business, until I explained that he merely did it to please the child! One doesn't mind making oneself out a baby to avoid hurting a mother's feelings. I don't know if Mother quite accepted this explanation, but she said no more about it, and told Mr. Aix the good news. He is in lodgings here, to be near us--Aunt Gerty thinks it is to be near her, and he lets her think anything she likes. He looks forward to George's coming with great interest, and says he will look like some rare exotic on the beach, such as a humming-bird or a gazelle. Aunt Gerty at once got hold of the visitors' list. "Let's see which of his little lot is coming to Whitby?" she said, and hunted carefully through three columns till she found that Adelaide Countess of Fylingdales, Mr. Sidney Robinson, nurse baby and suite, were at the Fylingdales Hotel, on the East Cliff. Lord Fylingdales, her eldest son, is the widower of a Gaiety girl who actually died after she had been a Countess a year, poor dear! Aunt Gerty knew her. He is Lord of the Manor here, and his portrait is all over the place. "Old Adelaide's a shocking frump, Lucy; you needn't distress yourself about her!" said Aunt Gerty consolingly to Mother. "I am not distressing myself about her, Gertrude," replied my Mother, and she didn't look at all distressed in her neat short blue serge seaside dress, and shady hat. She looked ten. "I know her son," Aunt Gerty went on. "A fish without a backbone. I very nearly had the privilege of leading him astray myself. It is Irene Lauderdale now, I hear." "I wish you'd stow your theatrical recollections, Gerty," said Mother. "Come, Tempe, get your things on, we will go and take rooms for your father and my husband." "Brava!" said Mr. Aix. "Capital accent there." "Oh, you go along!" said Mother, and we went off at once and engaged George's rooms. We got very nice large ones, with dark green outside shutters to the windows, and took a great deal of trouble to explain George's little ways to them, for their sake as well as his. Ben will valet him. Mother told the people that he is bringing his man, who will, however, sleep out. George never gets up till twelve, French fashion.